


Different Somehow

by CaptainTulip



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTulip/pseuds/CaptainTulip
Summary: Draco's unfaithful and Harry's a drunk. A snippet of their relationship.





	Different Somehow

Harry studied Draco carefully as he settled back against the headboard, twirling a lit cigarette between his nimble fingers. Every now and again, he'd pause, bring it up to his mouth, inhale deeply, smirk a little more than usual, and continue with the twirling. It was, obviously, all part of Draco's delicate and subtle scheme to look the epitome of cool and Harry felt the corner of his mouth twitch a little at the thought. Draco, catching Harry in his obvious observance, sneered.  
  
"What?" he asked. "Do I have something in my teeth?"  
  
"My cum," Harry replied and Draco rolled his eyes, returning to pretend he wasn't concentrating on the task his fingers were so skillfully accomplishing. Harry let his eyes roam across Draco's body. His soft pale skin littered in beads of sweat, barely glittering in the dim light of the day. The dark red flush on his cheeks, his pouting lips rough and bruised from their kissing. His grey, disinterested eyes and perfectly tousled hair. His nose, cute as a button.   
  
Harry snorted, and the man in question whipped his head up from his contemplation of his digits to Harry's badly disguised amusement.  
  
"What's so fucking entertaining, Potter?" Draco demanded.  
  
"Just you," Harry said. Draco sighed, flicking the cigarette onto the cotton sheets. "You'll start a fire," Harry said, frowning.  
  
Draco rolled off the bed and stood up. "Would you prefer I stubbed it out on my skin?" he asked, arching his back beautifully as he stretched. "I do like a bit of pain every now and again," he said, with a meaningful glance at Harry, who shook his head in disbelief at the insinuation.  
  
"I couldn't be more gentle if I tried."  
  
Draco gestured at the bruises and angry red marks littering his body. "You call this gentle?" he demanded.  
  
"Yeah," Harry scoffed, standing up beside Draco, "like they're all from  _me_."  
  
Draco frowned, and picking up his clothes from the floor, started to dress himself. "Well, the ones on my hips are definitely from you. You've got such a hard grip, Potter."  
  
"You like it," Harry countered, pulling his pants on roughly. "Well, you keep coming back, anyway. Maybe it's some twisted kind of punishment for your past sins--"  
  
"Officially pardoned past sins, you mean?" Draco asked, innocently. "Where's my shirt?" he said, flinging the pillows across the room in his annoyed search.  
  
"Pardoned by a man who's now on the run?" Harry slipped his shirt over his head and sighed. "Didn't you fold it up on the couch? Some prissy bullshit about not wanting to get creases..."  
  
"Well, we can't all look like shit," Draco muttered, and slipping his belt through his dark pants, he wandered out of the bedroom. "And I happen to have a certain empathy for those on the run," he called. Harry rolled his eyes, following him out into the small living area, which looked distinctly depressing in its whites and blues with the rain battering at the windows. The carpet was scratchy beneath Harry's feet and he sighed, watching as the wind tossed around the trees outside.  
  
"Just because all your friends are on the run, doesn't mean everyone on the run is your friend," Harry said, handing Draco his shirt.  
  
"Fuck, be careful, Potter. That's a nice shirt," Draco said, taking the shirt from Harry with delicate hands. "I know you're not used to nice things but try and be more considerate, hmm?" He slung the ridiculously priced piece of cloth over his shoulders. "And don't try and be clever. Amos Diggory made a decent Pardoner, before his assault conviction." Draco cocked his head to the side. "Wasn't that hard on the eyes, either."  
  
Harry glared. "Is that so? Then why aren't you letting  _him_  bugger you up the arse instead of me?" he retorted.  
  
"Because last I heard, he was somewhere in the Fijian Islands," Draco said. He carefully finished buttoning up his shirt and Harry cursed silently as he felt vague stirrings of arousal once more. Draco looked up as he slipped the last button into place. "And there wouldn't be anything  _instead of_  about it."  
  
Harry inwardly kicked himself and waited until Draco had turned around to wince. "Yeah," he murmured and made his way to the kitchen to distract himself from the urge to throw himself out the window. Coffee would do, and he waved his hand at the jug to set it to boil.  
  
"This place is a shit hole, you know that?" Draco called from Harry's bathroom and Harry shook his head in partial disbelief.   
  
"We've fucked in worse," he replied. Against his better judgement he got out two clean cups, filtering the coffee magically and stirring in the sugar and milk.   
  
"Yeah but," Draco began, walking out into the living area, looking pressed, clean, neat and tidy, but still strangely debauched, "you  _live_  here."  
  
Harry moved around from behind the kitchen counter and decided it was the lips that did it, really. They were still all puffy and bruised looking. He silently offered Draco the cup, and berated himself as Draco smirked and shook his head.  
  
"Thanks but no thanks," he said, and Harry could tell he delighted at the opportunity.  
  
"Don't you drink coffee in the morning?" Harry said, aware he was a breath away from sneering.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow and checked his watch. "It's one in the afternoon."  
  
"Got somewhere important to be?" Harry asked coolly, sending the coffee over to pour itself into the sink with a flick of his finger, raising an eyebrow slightly as Draco struggled not to look impressed.  
  
"Why, because it'd have to be important to forgo  _this_?" Draco said, gesturing vaguely at the two of them.  
  
Harry let his eyes slip up and down the other man. "No, because you look like you just got fucked." Harry smirked. "Hard," he added.  
  
Draco surveyed Harry. "And? What do you think I come here for," he said, cocking his head with a laugh, "dazzling conversation?"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to reply but Draco waved a hand in his face, impatiently. "I'll come Friday."  
  
Harry stared down into his coffee, which stared back with big, swirling green eyes. "Busy tonight?"  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
Harry sighed. "What time, then?" he asked, looking up to meet Draco's cold grey eyes.  
  
"Like you have better things to do than wait around for me."  
  
"Fuck you," Harry spat, and Draco leaned in close.  
  
"About seven, hmm?" he whispered, licking Harry's ear, and Harry felt a shiver go down his spine. Draco noticed and he left with a crack of Apparation, still laughing.  
  
Harry let out a shaking sigh. He stood there for a moment, then balling up his fist he turned around and hurled the mug at the wall, the crash resounding around the room. The dark brown liquid splattered against the pale blue walls. He stared at it for a while, following a small drop with his eyes as it trailed down onto the carpet.   
  
He made his way into the kitchen, flinging open the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine. He reached for the cabinet to take a glass, but glancing at the relatively small bottle, his hand found another wine instead. He slid down onto the cold, tiled floor, and proceeded to get properly plastered.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
It was half-through-the-second-bottle when there came a knock at the door. Harry sighed, and looking up at the door, which was five metres away, then back at the wine, which was clasped in his hand, he settled onto his back.  
  
"I know you're in there, Harry, and perhaps you're in a mood but I need to see you!" came a shrill voice through the wall. Harry winced.  
  
"It's open," he croaked, and the lock rattled.  
  
"Do you think I'd be standing out here if it was?"  
  
Harry grumbled and grabbing onto the kitchen counter, he hauled himself up. The bottle slipped out of his hand onto the floor and smashed into a large, jagged pieces, the rest of the golden liquid seeping into the cracks of the floor.  
  
"Fuck," Harry murmured. He shook his head slightly, waving a hand at the door to let it swing open.  
  
"What was that?" Hermione demanded, striding purposefully into the room.  
  
"Bottle, doesn't matter," Harry muttered and looked up at his friend. There was pink tinge to her cheeks and an urgent look to her flashing brown eyes. He smiled apologetically. "Would offer you a wine but there it goes," he said, waving his hand at the mess on the floor with a laugh.  
  
"It's four in the afternoon, Harry," Hermione said in a reproachful voice, as if she thought four in the afternoon was a ridiculous time to have a nice glass of sauvignon blanc. "Have you been drinking again?"  
  
"Well, some," Harry said, trying to stick out his bottom lip like Draco did sometimes, but only managing to dribble down his chin. He couldn't help but chuckle guiltily at Hermione's shocked expression and he turned around to avoid laughing outright. "Coffee?" he offered, flicking his hand at the jug, trying to maintain a straight face.  
  
"Yes, please," Hermione said, gazing around. "Was Draco here this morning?"  
  
Harry frowned as he opened the empty cabinet. There wasn't a cup in sight. "Yeah, why?" he asked, scratching his head as he gazed vaguely around the kitchen.  
  
"Because there's a broken cup, bedware on the floor, you're  _completely_  plastered and, er," Hermione blushed a little, still managing to look outraged in her embarrassment, "you haven't quite finished dressing yourself."  
  
Harry looked down at his open shirt and unbuttoned pants. "So I haven't," he said, amused, and avoided looking at Hermione's face as he continued his search for cups, buttoning his pants as he walked.  
  
"Where's he gone, then?" Hermione asked, her hands moving to perch on her large hips.   
  
Harry shrugged. "Probably to get fucked by someone else," he muttered. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any cups," he said, spinning around the kitchen with sigh and upturned palms.  
  
Hermione glowered. "Doesn't that bother you?" she demanded, pulling out her wand and conjuring two dark blue coffee cups, complete with saucers and little bits of biscotti on the side.  
  
"I usually drink out of the bottle anyway."  
  
"His infi _delity_ , Harry!"  
  
Harry sighed. "We have an open relationship, Hermione. How many times do I have to tell you?" He laced his voice with casual annoyance, like it was completely obvious. He made the coffees and, not trusting his shaking hands, he sent them over to sit at the table with a flick of his finger, indicating to Hermione that they join them with a jerking head movement.  
  
"Well, it's obvious you're not happy about it, because otherwise you wouldn't have had some kind of mental fit and started drinking again," Hermione stated, sitting down at the table and taking her coffee into her hands, her tiny ring sparkling sadly in what little light there was.  
  
"Who says I  _stopped_  drinking?" Harry said, then winced. He tried stretching his mouth into what he hoped was a winning smile. "If it's the mess that's bugging you, then look," Harry waved his arms and the two spills disappeared, "Gone."  
  
"It's not the  _mess_ , Harry!" Hermione said, starting to sound angry. "It's  _him_! It's what he's  _doing_  to you!"  
  
"More like what I'm doing to him," Harry said, smirking, and when Hermione clenched her teeth he couldn't help laughing, clutching his stomach.  
  
"How am I supposed to have a conversation with you when you're in this state?" Hermione said, disgustedly, as Harry choked on his coffee and started coughing onto the table.  
  
Tears lingering in the corners of his eyes, Harry nodded. "Okay, okay, I'm being serious," he murmured, his lips twitching.  
  
"He treats you like shit, Harry. He comes and he goes and he makes you  _drink_. He makes you angry," she said firmly, when Harry started to protest, "and he  _hurts_  you," she finished.  
  
Harry blinked. "How does he hurt me?"  
  
Hermione pushed her piece of biscotti around the saucer. "I saw you. Your -- chest," she said, not meeting Harry's eyes.  
  
Harry snorted. "We're having sex, Hermione..."  
  
"I'll not have him treating you like some whore!" Hermione snapped, and Harry started, astonished. "He's no good for you, Harry! He sleeps around and there's nothing in it but the sex--"  
  
"That's how we like it!" Harry protested.  
  
"That's how  _he_  likes it," Hermione retorted, crushing the biscuit between her fingertips, "And the sooner you realise that, the better."  
  
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.  
  
"I still," Hermione said slowly, as if weighing her words, "find it difficult to believe that you would choose this kind of lifestyle over what you had with Ginny."  
  
A sick feeling twisted at Harry's gut. "What, I should have just kept on  _fucking_  her," he said, viciously, "and pretending everything was fine? Who gives a  _fuck_  about my happiness or my preferences--"  
  
"I didn't mean a  _homosexual_  lifestyle, Harry!" Hermione interrupted in a pained tone. "I meant a self-destructive one."  
  
She gazed piercingly at him across the table, the rain pounding hard against the windows. The clock ticked on in the background, flicking away the seconds as she stared. Harry looked away eventually, trailing his finger in circles on the table, his eyes watching as the bits of crumb stuck to it.  
  
"I was dying with her," he whispered.  
  
"You're dying now."  
  
Harry stared at her, then rolled his eyes.   
  
Hermione sighed. "I'll come back when you're sober," she announced loudly, standing up from her chair.  
  
"Oh yeah? And when's that?"  
  
Hermione clenched her fist, determined. "Then we can talk about things."  
  
"There's nothing to say."   
  
Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes, I think there is." She turned around and walked slowly to the door.  
  
"Why don't you just Apparate?" Harry called. "You can, you know."  
  
Hermione spun around. "Because apparating in and out of someone's house is  _rude_ , Harry, not that I'd expect someone of Malfoy's type to have any such notion."  
  
Harry stared after her as she wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind her.  
  
"Merlin," Harry muttered, and looked down at his coffee. He took a sip, and frowned. Really, it needed something. He stood up, and moving into the living area, he opened a large cabinet and pulled out his aged bottle of firewhiskey, snorting at the label.  _Fat Freddy's Drop_ , it proclaimed. He looked over at his little cup of coffee, then at the bottle and shrugged. He turned on the stereo and sat down on his little couch, feeling suitably maudlin in the rain and soft piano music.  
  
The stereo began to croon of unrequited love and regrets. Harry leaned back and took a large swig in acknowledgment.  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  
  
At four in the morning, Harry staggered up from the couch and threw up copiously into the laundry basket. He gasped into his no longer clean washing for a long period of time, staring at the shadows, before slumping down next to it, asleep within seconds.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
It was raining again, the next day. Just enough to make any outdoor activity suitably unpleasant, but not enough to create that sense of coziness and safety. The house was a mess and there was a thick stench of vomit permeating the room, but from where Harry was standing (or rather, flopping pathetically over the couch) the deterioration of his surroundings was only notice that he needed more to drink.  
  
No one called, through the phone, fire, or otherwise. No one came to the door. No one sent him any mail.  
  
He fell off the couch at some point, and dimly registered that it was because he had been craning his neck to try and see what the time was.   
  
_Like you have better things to do than wait around for me._  
  
Harry scowled, and forced himself to stand up and start cleaning the house.  
  
... _gather up all the dishes, clean the dishes, put away the dishes, wipe the benches, clear the fridge, organise the pantry, scrub the floor, pick up all the dirty clothes, do the laundry, fold the clothes, make the bed, tidy the bedroom, tidy the lounge, dust the ornaments and photos, straighten the pillows, clean the carpet, vacuum the carpet, clean the toilet, clean the shower, scrub the basin, mop the floor, wipe down the tiles, spray air freshener, have a shower, change his clothes, comb his hair, shave, do his teeth, file his nails, put on his shoes..._  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
"For me?" Draco asked, amused, when he apparated into the lounge at a quarter to nine, tousled hair, bruised lips and all, and proceeded to wander around the house.  
  
"It just needed a clean," Harry denied, not bothering to stand up from the couch. He scowled at Draco's appearance, but shook himself. "You hungry?"  
  
Draco smirked. "Do you have anything to offer me to eat?" He folded his arms and looked down at Harry condescendingly.  
  
Harry shrugged, and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, if you were, we could go down to--"  
  
Draco interrupted him with a snort, and pulled off his top. "You're an alright sort of person, Potter, but then you open your mouth."  
  
"Was that a compliment?" Harry asked, trying not to think about the many new bruises and hickeys that lined Draco's torso and neck. Even so, he felt his cock start to harden as the lithe body was revealed to his eyes.  
  
"As if," Draco snorted. He started to walk toward the bedroom, and called over his shoulder, "What are you waiting for? Liberation?"  
  
Harry snorted, and pulled off his jersey and the shirt underneath. "As if," he murmured and followed Draco into the bedroom, watching appreciatively as Draco removed his trousers. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of Draco's back and hips, however.  
  
"What the fuck is that?" he asked, harshly.  
  
"Nothing." Draco settled himself onto the bed.   
  
Harry pulled off his trousers. "Nothing? Your back is like a fucking battle ground." He climbed onto the bed next to Draco, running his fingers over the other man's back.   
  
Draco winced. Harry frowned.  
  
"So what if I like it rough? You should know that by now."  
  
A flare of anger passed through Harry. "I like to know where something's been before I stick my cock in it," he said, harshly, pushing Draco down and settling on top of him, feeling himself harden more at the skin on skin contact.  
  
"Well, on a couch at five, against a wall at eight," Draco said, softly, and Harry glowered. He started rocking his hips, intent on distracting Draco. "Fuck, yeah..." Draco encouraged, and Harry shook his head. Lying on top of Draco and hearing his soft moans made him hard as a rock, consumed with lust and want and need. Harry groaned as their erections rubbed against each other in delicious friction, and felt a surge of jealousy at the thought that Draco had been doing this with someone else, less than an hour before.  
  
"Are we going to keep frotting, or have you got something better planned?" Draco asked breathlessly and Harry leaned down to bite softly at his nipple. Draco arched his back, gasping.  
  
"Well, if you like it rough, I figure we'll go without lube today," Harry said against a nipple and felt Draco freeze beneath him.  
  
"Do you  _want_  to tear me in two, Potter?"  
  
Harry rocked his hips more insistently, inwardly delighting in the way Draco keened and thrust involuntarily. "I know what a slut you are, Malfoy," fell from Harry's lips as he licked Draco's last name over his chest. "I know you can take it."  
  
"You're going to fuck me properly, Potter," Draco hissed, "or you're not going to fuck me at  _all_."  
  
"I have to make it different somehow," Harry whispered. "I don't want to get lost in the sea of nameless faces, now do I?" he murmured, and wrapped his hand around Draco's throbbing cock.  
  
Draco choked back a moan and glared at Harry through glazed eyes. "What the fuck is with you today, Potter?" he growled, shoving his cock through Harry's fingers.   
  
"Nothing," Harry murmured. He whispered a soft spell, one that was so familiar by now that it may as well be tattooed on the back of his eyelids, and slipped a finger slowly into Draco's slickened entrance. "I'm going to make you beg for it," he muttered. "I'm going to make you  _need_  it."  
  
Draco shuddered and pushed back on Harry's finger, trying to take more and more in. "I'm not going to break, you know."  
  
Harry slowly pushed the finger in and out, his other hand still stroking Draco's throbbing cock lightly. He licked Draco's neck, leaving a pool of saliva, and blew on it moments later, sending a chill down the other man's spine.  
  
" _F-fuck_ ," Draco gasped, and Harry's heart skipped. "Ever thought about -- speeding things up?" Draco breathed, wrapping his fingers around Harry's cock. Harry let go of Draco's erection, making the blond hiss, and batted Draco's hand away.  
  
"I want you to  _really_  want it," Harry said, sliding his fingers back to Draco's cock, swiping his thumb over the head, making Draco gasp. "I want you to fucking  _need_  it."  
  
"Are you on something?" Draco hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm not your fucking lover, Potter, I'm your--"  
  
"My what?" Harry stroked deeply against Draco's prostate with his fingers.  
  
" _Fuck_! Your guy that you fuck, the guy you fuck, so fucking do it already!" Draco said, hoarsely.  
  
"Say please," Harry whispered, smirking at the way Draco was thrusting his arse on Harry's finger, greedily trying to get more and more, deeper and deeper.  
  
" _What_?"  
  
"Say please, and I will. Beg me for it, and I'll take you."  
  
Draco gave a mixture of a moan and a growl. "Fucking  _crazy_ , Potter, I'm not going to-"  
  
Harry sped up his strokes on Draco's cock, and Draco gasped, tugging on his bottom lip. He shut his eyes and let out a shaky breath. "I hate you, you know that?" he whispered. "I fucking hate you, so much, please Potter, please, fuck me, do it, please just f-fuck me, take me, I  _need_  it, I'm a fucking ssslut, I know it, just  _do it_ , I won't let you forget this, y-you'll fucking pay, but right now just  _please_ , I need it so  _bad_..."  
  
Harry gasped, more aroused than he could possibly imagine at the Draco's breathless pleading, and murmuring a spell to slick his cock, he thrust into Draco's hole, gasping at the sudden tight, wet heat.  
  
" _Fuck_ ," the two said in unison, and Harry almost immediately began thrusting deep into Draco's arse.  
  
"So -- fucking -- tight --" Harry hissed, and Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's back, digging his fingers into Harry's shoulders.  
  
"Oh,  _fuck_  yeah -- fuck, Potter, deeper -- oh God, that's so fucking  _good_ , so fucking  _brilliant_  -- don't ever fucking stop, don't you  _ever_  fucking stop --"  
  
Harry groaned deep in his throat, and started pumping Draco's cock in time with his ever-increasing thrusts. Draco's started keening, and the bed was thumping against the wall in time with their thrusts.  
  
"Take it, fuck yeah, like that -- take it, take  _me_ ," Harry shuddered and tried to hold on as long as possible, squeezing his eyes shut in desperation as Draco's slick passage clenched around his cock.  
  
"Fuck --  _fuck_  -- I'm -- I'm c-coming," Draco whimpered, and soon his thick come was splattering all over the two. His buttocks clenched in orgasm, and Harry moaned.  
  
"Fuck yeah, come on my cock, on  _my_  cock, mine, mine, mine,  _mine_ ," Harry chanted, and with one final thrust Harry emptied himself into Draco, crying the man's name.  
  
The two panted for a moment, and Harry slowly slid out of Draco, settling beside him on the bed. They lay next to each other, slick and sweating and covered in each other's come, the sheets sticking to their hot skin, basking in the afterglow. All that could be heard in the room was the harsh breathing of the two men, and the soft pitter-patter of rain against the window.  
  
Suddenly, Draco sat up.  
  
"What the fuck was that?" he spat, staring down at Harry.  
  
Harry continued breathing for a moment, before lazily opening his eyes. "Sex," he replied, then chuckled.  
  
"You know what I'm talking about!" Draco said, standing up and cleaning himself off with a side of Harry's sheet.  
  
"Why do you insist on getting out so quickly? Afterglow is one of life's greatest pleasures."  
  
"Oh, maybe because we're not lovers? Or had you forgotten that, Potter? Are you expecting a kiss and a rose before I leave? Maybe a cuddle under the covers?"  
  
Harry didn't reply, closing his eyes. The wave of sadness crashed over him, like it always did, making him consider, for a split second, saying, "Yeah, that would be nice." He didn't, though, he merely stretched out, yawning.  
  
"I'm not your  _boyfriend_ , Potter, or had you forgotten? I'm not--"  
  
"Fuck, I  _know_ ," Harry said, exasperatedly. He sat up, glaring at Draco. "Don't you think I've figured that out by now? What, you're berating me for what I cry out during sex?" Harry snorted. "I'm a fucking slut, I need it so bad!" Harry mimicked in a high falsetto. "Don't you  _ever_  fucking stop..."  
  
"Shut up. Just shut up. Shut the fuck up."  
  
Harry sighed, slumping back down on the bed again. "Well, it's what you said, and I was just saying--"  
  
"Bullshit, Potter." Draco pulled his on shirt. "If you need as arse to claim as yours, fine. Go and pick some nice little virgin and plunder away. But leave me the fuck out of it."  
  
Harry didn't reply, listening to the sound of Draco dressing himself roughly.  
  
"I'm coming over Saturday night."  
  
Harry frowned. "What if I'm busy?"  
  
Draco snorted. "You're never busy."  
  
"I am so!" Harry protested. "As a matter of fact, I  _am_  busy Saturday night."  
  
"Bullshit. I'm coming around. And no funny shit, alright?"  
  
"No you're not, I'm fucking busy."  
  
"I'll see you then, Potter."  
  
"I'm  _busy_!"  
  
"Get some lube, you're running out, and you're not taking me dry."  
  
"Don't come round, I'll be--"  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
Draco apparated away and Harry cursed, defeated.  
  


 


End file.
